


If You Love Me (Let Me Go)

by venomedveins



Series: Most Beloved [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Agron also has temper issues, Agron being ridiculously protective, Crixus just doesn't get it, Druken dancing, F/M, M/M, Minor Past NonCon, Nasir is such a flirt, Nasir wanting to be a little warrior man, Spartacus just wants rebellion to be a success
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/pseuds/venomedveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir is chosen for a mission to dance for and seduce information out of a Roman. Agron is livid, but can not command Nasir not to go. Instead, he volunteers to guard him. He makes a mess of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Agron is in deep discussion with Spartacus, Gannicus, and Crixus about new Roman threat when drums and flutes begin in villa's courtyard. Newly freed Babylonians are keen to celebrate liberation by music and drink, their joyous laughter and singing echoing along stone walls. Agron finds it hard to concentrate, sounds distract and he would rather find himself inside of Nasir's arms than listen to fucking Gaul carrying on.

"Decimus Salvius is holding gathering to celebrate incoming fleet of slave ships to port," Spartacus raises voice to get over festivities behind them, "Thousands of Carthaginian captured and sent here to be sold at market."

"And you would have us meet ships there and see them to freedom?" Crixus looks grim, leaning forward with elbow on knee. He is still bitter about ship of Germanians.

"I would have us find way to gain information and see our numbers grow," Spartacus replies, rubbing hand along jaw. He is looking exhausted as of late, dark circles threatening corners of his eyes. 

Agron keeps ears on conversation but moves eyes to between pillars, looking out on merry-making below. Many rebels are lounging along the dirt, crowded around blazing fires roasting meat, and sharing huge vats of wine. Saxa has a man pinned to the ground, dirt smeared along her face, as crowd of Germans call and chant for her to finish him. One large group of newly freed rebels sits in the corner with the instruments, laughing and singing while others gather to dance, swirling brightly colored cloth above their head. 

Agron is surprised to see Mira and Nasir leaning together, watching the dancers while sharing jug of wine. Flushed color upon both of their faces proves this is not the first they have partaken in. Nasir has let his hair down, a rarity almost always reserved for intimate space between them. It curls around jaw and neck, making him appear more exotic and untamed.

"Agron?" Spartacus' voice yanks him back to discussion at hand and out of fantasy of long black strands in between his fingers. 

"Hm?" Agron does not take his eyes off of Nasir. His own dark gaze seems to travel to Agron's for a moment, a coy smile spreading across his wine stained lips, beckoning the gladiator with a finger to join him. 

"Fucking shit would rather find himself in between soft thighs of his boy then help lead rebellion," Crixus grumbles, punching Agron hard in the arm to gain attention. Gannicus snorts into cup, rolling eyes.

"As if you are not same when Naevia even draws breath beside you!" Agron snaps back, stepping forward to return attack, knocking chair over in process.

“Are we to have contest to see who has lost mind to cock?” Gannicus goads, grinning broadly, “Certainly that is most pressing matter.”

"Agron! What would you suggest we do?" Spartacus ends beginning of confrontation with harsh tone. 

"Why not see selves inside gathering? Pose as guest to seek information," Agron replies, forcing his attention back to matter at hand, taking deep breaths. 

"You would see us walk into Roman party as if honored guest? What of the guards? What Roman shits not knowing who we are?" Crixus glares up at Agron. 

"And you would have us attack villa? Place where important men of Senate will be gathering? Have us slaughter them as well? Then we truly will have wrath of Rome upon our heads and be dead before winter months have even left!" 

"I would see us gain information as fucking gladiators not house slaves!" 

Crixus stands and moves towards Agron, a fight seeming inevitable. Agron is lucky to get in first hit, knuckles slamming into Gaul's eye. Crixus gives roar, tipping chair over to grip strands of leather around Agron's neck. Spartacus is then between them, shoving Crixus back hard in the chest. Agron does not want to fight with rebel leader himself but surges forward, only to have fist connect with jaw. Blood fills Agron's mouth as he backs up, glaring over Spartacus' head at fuming Gaul. 

"Cease! Fall from sight until senses have been regained or at least until we are to talk like men, not dogs." Spartacus growls, sharp eyes glaring at both gladiators. 

Spitting to the side, Agron turns and stalks away, stopping on courtyard steps to breathe in cool night air. Tempers have been running high in growing rebellion Agron has gone weary of constant battle of words and would have battle of swords and blood soon. He feels Spartacus come to stand beside him on steps, placing hand on shoulder. Agron does not brush it off, only allows eyes to seek out Nasir again. 

He is still beside Mira, both whispering to each other and giggling, wine jug left forgotten at feet. Nasir lightly elbows Mira in the side, glancing through lashes at dancers. Mira seems to make comment, pointing hand toward one man whose gaze has not left pair. 

Agron notices man moving towards them, dark hair cut short and arms covered in swirling tattoos of Babylonian warrior. He holds red cloth between hands, throwing it loosely over Nasir, using it to pull him forward by his hips. The man towers over Nasir's small form, running hand slowly down the Syrian's stomach, grinning. Nasir shakes his head, laughing and trying to twist away, only to have man pull him closer. It's not rough, but with determination and a slow grin. 

Nasir flushes as Babylonian whispers something into his ear, then guides him into the throng of dancers. Agron has to force feet from movement, knowing Nasir will stand displeased if temper forces itself upon him. He does not own Nasir, nor has cause yet to action. Nasir is free man and free to make choice, even if decision is coiling hot in Agron's stomach. 

The pair twist together, Nasir now grasping one end of cloth in hand. He rolls his body along to drums and flute, spinning and using the fabric to pull himself against the rebel, pressing shoulders to chest. Dark, inked arms circle around waist, grinding back to front. Sweat curled hair sticks to Nasir's face, eyes flashing in firelight, seducing those around him with gaze. Agron would see warrior replaced with own form, but can't move legs towards dancers.

Spartacus clears throat behind Agron, fingers flexing on shoulder. He moves to stand beside the German, bumping him gently. It's a brother movement, something that causes ache in Agron's chest for moment remember Duro's happy face.

"Newly acquired freedom can be powerful thing," Spartacus murmurs, eyes studying Agron, "turning men foolish to other's heart." 

"Beauty and wine makes fools of us all," Replying between clenched teeth, Agron shifts uncomfortably, watching man caressing Nasir's jaw. His little Syrian pulls away, shaking his head and laughing, scarlet cloth falling from hands. Agron finds movement of body distracting, wild hair and stained lips pulling and coiling heat low on his own body. Sudden urge to have Nasir against him is unbearable, to sink inside body and find warm comfort in understanding gaze. He can not bear it no longer.

"Nasir!" Agron calls over crowd of celebrating rebels, moving towards the pair with stern determination. He hates foreign hands upon small body, body Agron knows is hiding love bruises from his own mouth. 

Nasir turns head, searching mass around, and spots Agron. Flushed face brightens and Nasir steps forward but finds arm caught by Babylonian. 

“I would wrap you in Apollo's cloak and stars, take you to heights yet unknown, if you but warmed bed tonight. Venus herself must have crafted mouth such as yours. ”

Babylonian wraps inked fingers tighter around Nasir's arm, pulling the small man closer, breathing into his hair. Agron finds himself before the pair, placing arm around Nasir's shoulder, glaring at man before him. Babylonian is giant himself, but still has to raise eyes to meet Agron's. 

“Remove hands or see them parted from body.” 

“And who is this?” 

“One who would see your end if you do not heed command.”

Man does not cower but steps back, letting go of Nasir. The Syrian turns body towards Agron, grasping thin arms around waist, and hiding face against firm chest. Peppering soft kisses on skin, Nasir slowly raises eyes to gaze up at his gladiator through long, black lashes.

“Do not fall to temper. Tamzi meant no offense. It has been too long since dance and drink clouded mind. Fault is my own.” 

Babylonian begins to say something else, but Agron is distracted by Syrian beside him. Nasir presses firmly against Agron's thigh, hair curling around shoulders in thick, tantalizing waves. Agron is suddenly brought back to wild, little dog who once stood before him. Tiberius, angry at the world yet could bring men to completion with only stare. His eyes seem almost dead now, though expression is posed to please. Agron jostles Nasir a bit, kissing forehead, and seeing some life coming back as he leads him away, Babylonian forgotten.

Stumbling up steps, Nasir nearly collides with Spartacus, giggling as drink seems to return full force. Rebel leader grasps arms, looking at Agron with surprise. German can only sigh in fond exasperation. During time of argument, Mira had moved to take Agron's place, and she too seems affected by new Babylonian wine. She lays wet kiss to Spartacus' cheek, leaning heavily on rebel leader. 

"You lose sense of feet to wine," Agron gently caresses Nasir's hair, finding it impossible not to smile at beloved. 

"Perhaps you should find cause to have me off them." 

Nasir blinks up at Agron slowly, coy smile spreading across lips. Heat hits Agron again, making cock stir within subligaria, and he bends to seal mouth to Nasir's in rough kiss. Muffled whimper expels from Nasir's mouth, raising on toes to meet Agron's height. He yanks away only to grasp Agron's wrist, turning towards villa entrance and promise of privacy.

“Pause a moment,” Spartacus smiles at the pair, turning attention from Mira. Agron has to suppress sigh and grip Nasir steady.

“What do you require?” Nasir's voice doesn't have angry edge, but body is tense to know what Rebel King would have of them. 

“Nasir, when you were a body slave to dominus, did you often entertain guests? Beyond servicing with flesh?” Spartacus says it slowly, as if afraid he will insult Nasir. The Syrian shifts awkwardly, eyes traveling up to Agron's face before down casting again, flush burning on cheeks. 

“Yes, I did what dominus commanded.” 

His voice is small, suddenly fragile and young, reducing man to boy almost instantly. Nasir seems to shrink, body curling towards core and shine to features gone. Agron finds himself wrapping arm tighter around warm shoulders, glaring at Spartacus for causing such pain to his heart. 

“I was exotic flower in garden of plain weeds, so he told me, and I often was made to dance for guests from Rome. Dance or stand naked as statue for curious eyes.”

“Enough. We are to bed.” Agron turns Nasir away from Spartacus' gaze, mouth set in firm line. 

\- - - 

Later, as Agron lays beside deeply sleeping Nasir, he traces scar upon back of neck, put there by constant rubbing of collar. It is barely visible, just twin lines along out skirts of spine, but still marks flesh that would not have been had slavery not been part of Nasir's life. Had he not been made to preform as object to be desired, not a man, not a thing with feelings and dreams.

Agron must still remember self and not move too quickly around barely waking Nasir, for that is when dominus was most prone to take what he would. Lightest of unexpected touches causes beloved to recoil, casting eyes wide in fear, and body to curl inside itself. 

Night terrors plague them both, Duro's blank and lifeless face and dominus' hands curled tightly in collar as if leash. They have learned when to hold each other and when to let each other be, yet Nasir is always the one to sob long after dream is done. 

Agron wishes he could wrap Nasir up in blanket and hide him from past, smoothing away scars both outside and in. Agron knows Nasir is now warrior, and has seen him slaughter many Romans upon field of battle. He is fiercely proud of slave boy turned gladiator, but heart clenches any time Nasir feels any sort of pain. 

In the beginning of new affair, it was so easy for Nasir to turn dead eyes towards him, reduced once again to Tiberius, waiting to be commanded. He aimed only to please Agron, give Agron pleasure, meet Agron's needs. After most intimate touch, Agron would have to coax Nasir to remain with him, to not go back to memories of harsh, unwanted times. Now, after long months together, Agron has watched Nasir become cemented in self, to realize choice is his own in freedom.

“Agron,” Rolling over, Nasir presses face into Agron's neck, arm thrown around waist, “You think loud enough to wake the gods.”

“Apologies. Sleep does not come easy tonight,” Agron kisses Nasir's temple, pulling blankets higher around waist. 

“Wine is still thick in head yet I sense I am the cause of your restlessness?” 

Propping up self on elbow, Nasir stares down blurry eyed at man before him, feeling sudden rush of emotion. He traces edge of jaw, feeling rough stubble on pad of thumb, and soft edge of Agron's bottom lip.

“No, not only cause,” Agron answers, brushing Nasir's hair behind his ear. 

“But some? You are mad about the Babylonian. Do you consider me unworthy to share bed now?” 

Nasir's eyes fall, bottom lip caught between teeth. Agron knows look, and instantly begins to caress bare hip, leaning closer to beloved and kissing cheek and then jaw. He is mad, anger is hot in blood still, even after taking Nasir upon back, looking at devotion in eyes. Yet, hands upon flesh that solely contain all of Agron, he can not bare. Desperate and miserable look upon Nasir's face though, is something that causes Agron more pain than any flesh wound could. 

“Sleep Nasir,” Agron pulls him down, wraps arms around him and continues to weave kisses into hair, “Anger will leave me. You did nothing wrong. I will always want you here, beside me.”

Nasir's breath evens out eventually, clinging tightly to Agron. 

\- - - 

 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Agron slams wooden cup on table, wine spilling over his fist. Mouth set in snarl, he glares at Spartacus and steps before chair that Nasir is sitting on. Others in the room jump from outburst, Naevia turning to glance surprised at the gladiator. Mira stays sullen to the side, afraid to intervene with German's legendary temper. 

“Agron,” Spartacus shifts weight, "It is only plan we have. He would not be in danger."

“He is valuable asset,” Gannicus reassures around mouth on jug of wine.

"You expect me to just send him in there as if slave? As if collar was never removed?" Agron raises voice, feeling as if betrayed by closest friend. He can feel Nasir shifting behind him, sighing loudly. 

"He is yet here and could share words," Nasir tries to speak up but sound is lost in the raised voices. He rolls his eyes, slumping back.

"You are blinded to purpose. Pause defending boy from danger that is not even certain yet," Crixus snaps, standing beside rebel leader. Agron wants nothing more than to punch his face until only blood comes out, but refrains. Crixus' eye is already bruised from yesterday.

"Blinded to purpose? Blinded to you sending Nasir in as if prized whore to Roman shits!" He feels as if is surrounded by the senseless. Surely Spartacus is desperate and not thinking wisely. How could he not see what a deranged plan this is? 

“No one said-” Gannicus tries to lend aid again.

"It is only disguise! We hold the fates of thousands of men to be sold at auction as if cattle! Nasir is free man and-" Spartacus is cut off as Nasir abruptly stands, stepping out from behind Agron. He knows he is tiny in sea of giants, but squares shoulders anyway.

"Free man who makes free choice to do this. If I am able to offer freedom to doomed men, then I will do what I can," Nasir nods once, placing hand gently on Agron's back. He turns eyes up to him, frowning deeply. He knows actions are causing harm, but he is free to make choices now. He is no longer slave to be afraid of master. 

Agron sighs, hanging head for moment. He knows he is going to die for this, die for Nasir if it requires it. To keep him safe, to keep him breathing free air. He can not let his heart go into the pit of Roman hell without him. Spartacus has never failed before, and he may have good plan.

“I will go with as guard,” Agron gives in, can't meet gazes, only stare at wooden table before him. 

"That is not a wise-" Crixus starts, but Naevia places hand on shoulder, shaking head. 

"Agron has passed as Roman soilder before," She speaks softly, "and come out victorious."

"It is simple plan. Nasir, you will go for dominus that can not make Salvius' party. Dominus wants to gain favor so you are gift to win times and locations of incoming slaves." Spartacus explains, rubbing jaw tiredly, "I'm not asking you to go beyond what makes you comfortable."

Nasir nods once, knowing meaning as cheeks burn. 

“It is known around market Salvius favors-” Crixus pauses, glancing up at Agron, who shifts and crosses arms, before continuing, “He is known for favoring boys in secret. Man has purchased six Syrian slave boys to serve him in the past year.”

Agron feels heat scalding back, coiling around in stomach, making him gag. Nasir's hand on him is like brand, and wants to wrench out of grip but also drown in sensation. So that is the true reason they pick Nasir. 

"Naevia and I will help you ready self. We will find way to hide scars," Mira gently places warm hand on Nasir's shoulder, smiling sadly at him, "If you would accept assistance?"

"Yes. I will need bath and clothes," Nasir nods.

“There is stolen Roman armor in villa, find one that fits and hides brand, Agron. We have two day's time to prepare,” Spartacus nods once, dismissing them. 

\- - - 

That night, Agron can not form words to give to Nasir, anger and pride still tongue and freezing body. Even when Nasir presses close, kissing Agron's slack mouth, rests head on chest. As he grips Agron's hand, traces each knuckle with delicate touch and murmurs onto fingers. 

It is only when Agron wakes to Nasir tracing scar on back of neck, muffling sobs into palm, that Agron feels self thaw enough to cradle most beloved closely and soothe away nightmares.


	2. Part 2

"Fuck the gods," Nasir mutters, closing his eyes again as Mira smudges the soot across his lids, "Am I to be painted now too? I already appear boy to man I am!"

Naevia sighs, twisting his hair so it lays in waves around his shoulders, tugging too roughly on purpose. They had helped him bathe and wash his hair, ignoring the deep purple and red bruises that littered his inner thighs, though Mira had given him a look. Nasir had been silent, but sighed often and refused to have oil rubbed into skin by other's hand. 

"Least you got real bath," she murmurs, "Memory fails when I last felt truly clean."

"Skin is clean alone," Nasir sighs, looking up at ceiling. Large whiskey colored eyes appear even larger as black surrounds them.

"What is your meaning?" Naevia continues to run fingers through dark locks.

"Are you and Agron still at odds?" Mira asks, using thumb to smear dark powder.

Nasir flinches from question, remembering events of last night. The way Agron had laid beside him in the dark, refusing touch or words. The nightmare that over took him when he finally fell to sleep, watching Agron give him back to his dead dominus, forgetting promise of freedom. The feeling of the collar wrapped tightly around throat, coking when Nasir tried to call out to the gladiator. The cruel sneer of lips that Nasir cherished above all, as dominus ripped cloth away from body. Then waking to feeling still there, mere distance of bed felt as if miles separated Agron and Nasir. 

Seeing his distress, both women wrapped him quickly in their arms, Naevia planting kiss on temple. They caressed arms and back. 

"I have known Agron for some time. Anger is to be feared, but does not last long. He will see sense," Mira soothes, tucking hair behind ear. 

"He will not accept apologies if I do this," Nasir shakes head, feeling painful heat in stomach, "He sees it as betrayal of trust."

"He is too quick with words," Naevia continues to pet Nasir, sharing look with Mira over head. Pain is thick in the Syrian's voice as he stares at hands in lap. 

"He is right! I gain freedom to wield sword and shield, taught by rebel king himself, yet when mission comes - I am the petty whore to be painted and used," Nasir hates the break in voice, tears swelling in eyes, "Agron needs warrior, not useless boy. Even without collar, nothing has changed! Romans will always have us."

"Nasir," Mira and Naevia chorus, shocked at sudden display of emotion. Nasir pushes them away, standing and wiping tears off cheeks. 

"I will do this. I believe in cause and Spartacus," he sets face in blank face of slave, look both women are familiar with, "and I will loose him for the lives of thousands of others."

Naevia wraps ams around Mira as Nasir exits, sighing miserably. 

 

\- - - 

 

"Have you broken words with Nasir?" Gannicus pulls arm guard snugly across brand, buckling it in place. 

"For what purpose?" Agron does not meet gaze, only continues to fiddle with armor. 

"Purpose of swollen eyes and stilled tongue? Is he not effected by harsh words yesterday?" 

"I did not exchange such with him."

"Yet Nasir stands reduced to lowered eyes while you stand here blank of reason?"

Agron hates knowing tone, as if Gannicus has any idea what he speaks of. Nasir has been swept away all day, preparing for this afternoon's travels. Agron has not had chance to even see him, preoccupied by getting armor and reading horses. 

"Or do you not realize hardship this is? To know only slavery and position of place upon back for Roman," Gannicus nearly sneers, rolling his eyes at lack of Germanian's words. Nasir reminds him of Melitta enough to be painful - trying to be strong in the face unfathomable anguish. 

"What would you have me fucking do? I do not see mission ending in success," Agron shrugs, turning to pick up sword off ground, "Spartacus risks life for no fucking reason, when other plan may work." 

"You do not know position he is placed in," Mira snaps from doorway, arms crossed and eyes glaring, "You speak as if-"

Agron cuts her off with held up hand, "This no business of yours, Mira.”

“It is when he sees you as a god,” Mira hisses, leaning forward and pushing a finger into Agron's chest, “and you are fucking treating him as if he is dog!”

“Go finish getting Nasir ready for journey ahead. We leave with setting sun.”

“He left our company,” Mira replies, mouth still set in glower, “Tired of defending you in conversation.” 

Agron tries to smother surprised look, latching cape onto hooks on shoulder. He wants to go find Nasir, to set eyes upon face and perhaps soothe hurt he knows his actions have caused. Yet, he feels resolve still hard in chest, the hatred of this mission and what is asked of Nasir. 

“I am to Spartacus.” 

Helmet tucked under arm, Agron avoids Gannicus' and Mira's eyes as he pushes through doorway. He is dressed in full Roman solider armor, gold breast plate almost too short on towering frame. Skirt of armor feels strange against thigh, almost tickling Agron's flesh. He finds it distracting. Wanting nothing more than time to self and thoughts, he pushes past curtain to enter small room Nasir and him call own. 

Others know better than to interrupt room unless with most important of message, not after the first time unsuspecting messenger had walked in on them. Nasir had back to door, perched upon Agron, head thrown back in pleasure. One glare from Agron had messenger running from room with fear. 

“Jupiter's cock,” he mutters, tossing helmet upon pile of blankets they call bed and running hand through hair.

Agron freezes upon seeing Nasir standing by table, holding Agron's cloak in hand. He looks beautiful, candlelight casting over face, softening features and casting shadows over eyes. Agron is instantly drawn to the long strip of skin left open by his pants, fabric held together by mere chain. He is intoxicating, and unlike anything Agron has ever seen.

He is suppose to be desired, that is point of mission, yet Agron can not help but think of what costume hides. Scar upon side showing Nasir's unfailing bravery. Tiny splatter of freckles across Nasir's shoulders, given to him by hours of training under sun. Soft smile only reserved for Agron after hours of intimate touch, when Nasir is too tired to offer anything but look of pure love.

"I thought best to cover self before leaving villa," Nasir mutters, stepping more into the light, keeping chin down as he fiddles with cloth.

"It is getting colder," Agron agrees, cursing fumbling tongue. He man of action, not words. 

"It is," Wrapping cloak around shoulders, Nasir's long fingers tie strips in place. Agron steps forward, gently brushing a strand of Nasir's hair behind ear, suddenly feeling rush of emotion at seeing Nasir in his clothes. Long eyelashes flutter as he glances up at the gladiator timidly before lowering eyes again. Seeing fear in expression, Agron suddenly realizes damage he has caused.

"You put Venus to shame," Agron murmurs, tracing the blush on Nasir's cheek, lifting face, "and Jupiter himself trembles from fierceness of fucking loyalty to Spartacus."

"I would not have you see it as only loyalty to him," Nasir answers, leaning into touch, "but foolish devotion to wrathful god." 

"Nasir apologies-" Agron begins but stops when Nasir steps forward wrapping arms tightly around Agron's waist. Pressing forehead to chest, he sighs heavily, seeming tiny next to towering gladiator. Agron can do nothing but wrap his own arms around Nasir, tangling fingers in hair and cloak. It seemed to both as if Saturn had paused moving sun to let them dwell forever in this moment. 

"I would not turn from you even if the gods commanded. Do not turn from me now."

Nasir's words are muffled by cold metal of breast plate, fogging up golden shine. Gently pulling him back, Agron bends to kiss him deeply, holding face between gentle hands. Nasir replies eagerly, going on toes to press back, whimpering when Agron's fingers trace edge of pants. Heart pounding, he wants to lay Nasir down, forget mission, rebellion, and Rome all together. He would never run from fight, but now, at Nasir's request, he would put down shield forever if only to grasp Nasir instead. 

"Agron! Spartacus requests-" Mira stops in the doorway, eyes going wide at scene before her. She has the decency to turn eyes to side, trying to smother grin, "Apologies." 

Releasing bottom lip from between teeth, Agron keeps Nasir close, turning to face the woman in the doorway. Previous anger towards her is forgotten at barely contained glee. Agron rolls eyes, letting out huff of air.

"Spartacus requests what?" He asks, soothing hand through Syrian's thick black hair, Nasir wiping at mouth with back of hand. 

"He would see you both and Gannicus on road," Mira replies, peeking back at the pair. 

"We will join shortly," Nasir answers, adjusting cloak to cover body, pulling hood up. 

“I will pass on word,” Mira nods once before leaving, smirking over shoulder. 

Stepping away from Agron, Nasir smooths folds of too long cloak around him, taking deep breath. Agron finds self suddenly at lack of words, frozen by sudden shift in mood. Mission can not be forgotten, nor the implication of what Nasir is asked to do. Heading towards door, he turns at last moment to plant soft kiss on Nasir's forehead, taking helmet from his hands. 

“Agron,” Nasir turns eyes up at last moment, “no matter what happens during party, no matter what I am commanded to do-”

He swallows thickly, gently petting Agron's jaw. 

“Do not forget my heart forever dwells here with you.”

“I-” Agron is cut off as Nasir pulls back. 

“But I will not fail at mission, regardless of your anger towards it.”

\- - - 

Journey to villa crosses small range of mountains to the south, thick with mountains and hidden caves. Land separating villa to mountains is long and barren, only low brush and few tiny trees to hold any sense of cover. Agron doesn't like it. It's too open, not enough space to hide if mission goes wrong, if flight is necessary.

Stopping horse at tree line, he stares out at glittering lights of villa and party within. It is as if beacon of fear, sour taste filling mouth at idea of entering gates. Nasir has not spoken once during long travel, staying few feet between both Gannicus and Agron, with head down and hood up. The tension is back, even after soothing of wounds before. 

“Shall we go over plan once more?" Gannicus asks, pausing by Agron. 

Nasir stops between, eyes fastened to villa before him. 

"I am gift, sent by Lucius Tullius, in exchange for first pick of incoming slave ships," he answers, voice devoid of emotion, "I am providing entertainment as trusted body slave to my dominus. I know only rumors of Spartacus, but not man himself."

"We are here to guard you, to insure no harm comes to you and you are safely returned to villa of our dominus by morning's light," Gannicus reassures, looking past Nasir to meet Agron's gaze. 

"We are not to let most precious jewel out of sight, regardless of Decimus' orders," Agron adds, reaching out to gently place hand over Nasir's. He means it reassuringly, but Nasir turns eyes up slowly, mouth set in firm line. 

"Do not cast gaze as such at me when we enter villa," he replies, pulling away abruptly, "you will give us away!"

Agron watches with twist of stomach as Nasir pulls something from folds of cloak, lowering his hood. Reins bite into his palms as Nasir pushes hair back and fastens collar, relic from lifetimes ago, once more around slender neck. Agron is sure he will be sick, bile rising in throat as the shell of his beloved urges horse forward. So close to him yet so far away with distant look. He does not see Nasir's miserable gaze at villa. 

"Put on helmet. We are no longer ourselves, Agron," Gannicus gives one lingering gaze at fellow gladiator before following Nasir. 

Ride across dead ground is as if moments, Nasir pushing horse into gallop. Agron allows own horse to stay few inches behind, close enough to appear as if guarding him. Nasir does not seem to notice or care, and pulls abruptly before gates, handing reins to standing slave. 

Swinging leg over horse, Agron moves to assist him dismounting but Nasir waves his hand away, accepting Gannicus' aid instead. Agron feels the slight, but accepts it, bracketing in the Syrian as they move to guards at gate. 

"State business," a tall Roman guard snaps, looking up from scroll. His blond hair is cropped close to skull, showing freckles that days in sun for training have caused.

"Gift sent by Lucius Tullius," Gannicus answers, "most desired body slave."

The guard eyes Nasir skeptically, almost with disbelief. Moving slowly, licking lips once, Nasir pulls open the cloak, showing body under. The guard's expression changes, smirk growing as he exchanges quick glance with other guards. 

"I am for your dominus," Nasir says quickly, not pulling away as the guard reaches out and lifts his jaw more into the light. Agron's head throbs at restraint of not slaughtering men where they stand. 

"Pretty, pretty," the guard grins, breath smelling of sour wine as it passes over Nasir's face, "What is your name then?"

Nasir blinks, biting bottom lip. It is as if each action is fueled to be desired, to be lusted for. He is expert and Gannicus and Agron barely recognize fierce warrior before them. 

"I am called Tiberius," Nasir answers, glancing to side for one moment of weakness, dark eyes boring into Agron's. 

"He is to dance for your dominus, not for you," Agron bites out, placing hand firmly on Nasir's shoulder, "Are we to be allowed inside?"

"Of course. I didn't mean to cause offense," the guard grinned, leaning in to whisper to Agron as he let them pass, "Though I am prepared to pay heavy coin if I were allowed to share in spoils."

Agron rounds on the man, ready to slice tongue from fucking mouth for saying such when Gannicus grabs shoulder and pulls him back. 

"Apologies. Journey was long and I am afraid he is need of wine and food," Gannicus yanks Agron back towards villa's opening. 

When they are out of ear shot, Gannicus elbows Agron hard, hissing in ear. 

"You will get him killed if you do not hold fucking tongue and still hand!"

Nasir is muttering to a small, boy slave before them at doorway, nodding quickly and removing cloak. Agron hadn't noticed the tiny gold jewels placed on spine before, glittering in the torch light. Every detail of Nasir's appearance is made with expert detail by experienced hands. He makes a gesture towards Gannicus and Agron and the slaves eyes them tiredly. 

"Tiberius may present self after current entertainment is finished. You are welcome to partake in party, wine is plenty," his voice is soft as he stares at their feet, and it occurs to Agron that he is afraid to meet Roman gaze. 

"We will stand to side. Dominus would stand displeased if we partook," Gannicus replies, allowing boy to show them inside. 

The room is decorated in rich gold fabric, covering long couches and pillows on the floor. Romans are reclined over every surface, talking and laughing as three woman dance upon platform in middle of deep pool. Food is piled high on every available surface and women with huge gold platters move around, feeding grapes into waiting Roman mouths. 

Each slave wears short, white skirt, leaving chests bare and painted in intricate gold designs. Their faces are blank of expression, eyes only raising enough to meet each other's gaze. 

One slave woman with long blond hair comes to stand before them, offering cup to Gannicus and then Agron. She eyes them hungrily, but it seems practiced. She is expert at producing reaction. Nasir clears throat sharply and the girl drifts away with one backward glance. 

"Is that him?" Agron asks, pointing to a man seeming to lounge in very center of party. 

He's young, appearing to be no older than Agron himself. With curly brown hair and large blue eyes, his mouth pulls back in grin at some comment Roman near him makes. Wearing a toga of rich blue, he appears as if child among old, forgotten war heroes. Agron has to force snarl back as man's eyes seem to lock onto Nasir, mouth going slack. 

"Yes, dominus of this house - Decimus Salvius," Nasir nods. 

"He is younger than expected. More boy than man," Gannicus comments, shifting uncomfortably as another slave woman passes by him grinning. 

"His father disproves of his choice in slaves," Nasir murmurs, coyly looking through lashes at the Roman, "Gossip in market spoke of scandal. He strangled his first body slave in middle of fucking. When his father discovered, he quietly sent him off to villa away from Rome. Gave him ships to import his own slaves."

Agron glances back at the young Roman, watching him slowly licking his lips in Nasir's direction. He is at once glad for helmet guards covering his reddening face. His fury is making armor uncomfortable, sticking to sweaty skin. Suddenly, as if coolest water, Nasir's arm brushes his. 

"Agron," he whispers, not seeming to move at all. 

"Hm?" 

The three dancers move off platform, music stalling for moment. Party seems magnified under silence. Tension fills the trio as if still wind before final battle. The grave danger they set themselves in appearing out of sky to bash in skull. All Agron can see though are Nasir's eyes before him, inching towards platform, mouth opening. 

"Do not cast gaze upon me," he hisses, desperate as he backs away, "Do not see me like this."

Agron moves forward with intention on pulling Nasir back. Fuck the mission. Fuck Spartacus' demands. He will not stand by and let Nasir sacrifice his own freedom for the freedom of others. But then Nasir is already upon platform, being announced by slave boy from before. 

"Tiberius?" Decimus grins, eyes hungry as flutes begin to play, and Agron finds gaze fixed on Nasir. 

He can not look away from beloved, entranced and hating every roll of hips and thighs. Nasir's fingers twisting in own hair drive Agron crazy, frozen between wanting to slaughter everyone in the room or wrap himself around Nasir and never let him go. Arching of back and half closed eyes, Nasir appears as divine, unreachable by mortal hands. 

He moves as if infused by music itself, raising arms above head and moving waist in continuous circles. Long, thin fingers trace their way down Nasir's side, over chain at hip and along thigh. Drums pound and lyre's sweet notes spin Nasir, pull at flesh, causing him to bend and twist to their command. His feet make no noise as they carry him along platform, bracing ever body roll and sharp movement. 

Song grows louder with each passing moment, Nasir's cool, controlled movements seeming frenzied and eager. He tosses hair over shoulder, twisting body smoothly and bending back, he extends arms and twists hands. 

“Agron! Contain breath!” Gannicus hisses at elbow, and Agron realizes he's panting. The desire to move forward and claim causes sweat to pool at lower back and neck. 

Mission is saved as song comes to abrupt stop, Nasir freezing with flushed cheeks and gasping breath. He plays part by turning heated gaze to Roman shit before heading back to stand by Agron and Gannicus. Taking offered cup from the Celt's hand, he drains wine before asking. 

"Does he appear pleased by performance?" 

"Uh?" Agron can not close mouth, eyes still wide and staring at man before him. 

"His eyes did not stray," Gannicus answers, glancing between the pair with grim face, "He will ask for you."

As if called, slave boy appears at Agron's side, face grim. He sizes up Nasir with guarded eyes, as if fearful of replacement. Nasir, in return, lowers eyes with small nod to pose no threat. This silent language fascinates Agron. As if only a few shifts of eye and head can speak whole length of conversation. 

"Dominus would have you in private company."

Nasir's dark eyes close for moment, as if final decree has been made on life before opening. 

"Dominus requires our presence at such," Agron places hand firmly on Nasir's shoulder, hoping warm comfort will seep between contact. 

"He will not be harmed," slave defends. 

"It is no matter. He is not to leave sight."

Gannicus crosses arms over chest, peering down at slave boy as if giant. Agron is surprised by vicious gaze, but slave's eyes quickly drop, head lowering. He turns abruptly, beginning to lead hidden rebels through crowd. Nasir glances back at Agron just once, as if casting look could fill the silence between them with plea to hold tongue in face of Roman's presence. 

The slave leads them to long corridor and down to curtain covered door. Upon entering, Roman is splayed over couch, slowly eating grapes from platter. Small table stands nearby holding two cups and large pitcher of wine. 

"Leave us," Decimus commands, gently pressing ripe fruit to mouth. His own slaves and guard leave room, their footsteps echoing in long hall. Agron and Gannicus bracket each side of Nasir, guarding path against anyone who would wander in. 

“Slave boy Albinus tells me you go by name Tiberius.”

“Yes, dominus.”

"Do you know who I am?" the Roman stands, reaching for jug of wine. 

"Decimus Salvius, heir of Marcus Salvius," Nasir answers automatically, "Rome's finest slave trader."

The Roman grins, pouring one cup to brim before holding it out to Nasir. The Syrian does not move at first, glancing up in surprise. A Roman serving a slave is rare thing. 

“Drink and tell me of favor your dominus requires,” Decimus' face does not wilt, “He must wish for something grand if he sends such treasured slave to my house.”

Nasir steps forward, wrapping lips around side of cup and drinking slowly, dark eyes trained to Roman's face. Every gesture, glance, breath is trained to bring flame to Decimus' face and groin. Agron is in awe of skill but hesitant to trust Nasir's control in situation. 

“My dominus only asks small favor in exchange for gift,” Nasir says smoothly, running fingers along fabric of couch, “First choice of slaves when they make port. Gladiators to fill arena under his name. Woman to fill villa and bed. Men to build new rooms.”

“And in return?” Decimus rubs hand along Nasir's scalp, twisting lock of hair around finger. He is continuing to circle the Syrian as if vulture. 

“I am here to give taste of pleasure you will receive if my dominus' wishes are met,” Nasir answers, drinking more wine. 

“Only taste?” Decimus presses close to Nasir's back, hand traveling over tan shoulders and along chest. He brushes Nasir's long hair to side, placing lips right below collar. Agron remembers caressing same spot only days ago. 

“I-” Nasir pauses, eyes going towards sky as if holding breath, “I am commanded to receive and deliver answer before full gift is bestowed upon you.”

“Full gift. Just taste then.”

The Roman grabs Nasir's jaw, turning it to look over shoulder so he can smother lips with own. Heat shoots through Agron's back, fury building in jaw to make teeth grind. He wants to kill. He wants to remove head from fucking shoulders. Roman shit who would dare touch Nasir as if property, not man. He is readying himself for battle when Nasir's open eyes drill into him around Decimus' still moving face. 

Agron can hear wet sound of mouths, twisting guts into knotted mess, yet Nasir's gaze freezes movement. His dark lined eyes seem aged, carrying burden of whole world. At moment, line between freedom and slavery seem as if day and night. Agron can no longer see Nasir as Tiberius, as slave to be fucked and discarded. Agron can only see freeman, beloved, the very beating heart in chest. Yet how did someone so small form such strong hold over Agron? The monster from East of the Rhine? Pain in chest is Agron's answer, his weakness for the Syrian.

Decimus pulls back, lounging on couch once more, and placing grape on tongue. Nasir stands still, breathing raggedly. 

“You may tell your dominus he will get to dip hand first in spoils. He can meet week from day at my dock. Ships come in at midnight hour.” 

“Yes, dominus. Gratitude.” 

Nasir turns to leave, thinking conversation has come to end, when Roman grabs arm. His startled gaze doesn't have chance to meet Agron's before he's being turned. 

“I but got taste on very tip of tongue. Remove garments. I would look up own spoils first.”

“Dominus would stand displeased if-” Nasir begins, but the Roman lashes out, gripping his collar and yanking him near. 

“Are you not for me? At my mercy of command?” he hisses into Nasir's ear, turning his head to the side, “Remove garments or see them removed by force.”

Agron's hands are curled into fists at side as Nasir steps back and lowers hand to thick chain along hip. He fiddles with it for a moment, unlatching small clasp. With deep breath, he slowly releases, fabric pooling at feet. Roman's mouth twists in sick pleasure. Muscled thighs that Agron finds self soaring to heights unknown between. Long back, tight with muscle now yet appearing thin under dim candle light. There is no denying of Nasir's beauty.

“Stay hand,” Gannicus murmurs barely above whisper to Agron. 

Decimus moves towards Nasir, running hand down chest and onto stomach, grin filling face. He grips hip tightly, turning Nasir slowly in circle to see all of him. The Roman twists hair in hand, bending Nasir forward and sliding hand between thighs. His gives noise of recognition as his fingers probe at Nasir's opening, slipping edge of thumb along soft skin. 

Nasir's dark eyes stay at floor, flinching at touch, and Agron knows he is going to kill this man. There is no escape for him. Lifting red sash of fabric hiding scar, Decimus grips collar again, yanking Nasir back with it as he presses body to the Syrian's back. 

“Get on couch,” Decimus hisses into Nasir's ear, licking along edge. 

Agron makes point of shifting, catching Nasir's watery gaze. He shakes head slightly, begging him to stay where he stands, not wanting to fail mission for Spartacus. So concerned with appearing warrior in situation. Agron's head is pounding, jaw aching from clenched teeth as Nasir moves at Decimus' tug, laying so gaze can still meet Agron's, even if face is in cushions. .

The Roman licks over neck, biting at skin around collar, pulling vile of oil from robes. Nasir's nails dig into fabric around him, biting lip as legs are parted, black streaked tears tracing along cheek. The strong scent of olives fills room as Decimus lowers hand, gripping Nasir's hip tightly.

"Agron!" Gannicus hisses, but the German can not hear him. 

Heat of room is too much, tunneling Agron's vision. Memories of Nasir's face in most private moments seem to circulate inside mind, the laughter Agron had to coax out of him for the first time, the smile after long night of pleasure, tiny smirk when Nasir is playing coy to get way, the sleepy gaze reserved only for Agron when he wakes. Every detail of Nasir's whole being reduced down to an object to fuck and hurt. Agron can not stand by and see another Roman rob him of what he holds above all us. 

His restraint on body fails as he surges forward, drawing sword. Roman only has moment to turn gaze up from his position between Nasir's thighs before hilt of sword connects with skull. Sickening crunch fills room, blood splattering onto the Syrian's stomach and chest. Decimus falls to side, Agron climbing over couch and follows, continuing to connect sword with skull. Blood pools along marble, each hit a continual crunch, though first impact stilled heart. 

"You fucking cock! Regain sense before guards are drawn to noise," Gannicus grips Agron's arm, yanking him away from corpse. The German moves to go back for more, shaking the Celt off him as if nuisance only. 

"Agron!" Nasir gasps from couch, having moved onto knees, clutching fabric to chest. 

With sharp growl, Agron hits Roman one more time before turning. Consequence of actions does not even seem obtainable with liquid fire inside veins. Yet, pounding heart slows upon seeing Nasir's thin arms wrapped tightly around himself, openly crying now. 

"Move bed to cover blood and prop Roman shit up as if sleeping," Agron commands Gannicus, moving towards Nasir. 

"Redress. We need to escape," he raises hand and brushes black line off cheek, and Nasir looks up at him with hollow eyes, as if he is stranger. Moving mechanically off couch when Gannicus picks up body. 

"Nasir!" Shaking him lightly by shoulders, Agron bends to make eye contact, cupping jaw in hand, "We must go."

"What will we fucking tell guards?" Gannicus snaps, twisting Decimus' head to hide wound. 

"Don't raise fucking hackle. They could hear." Agron snaps, taking off helmet to run fingers through short hair. They must get out of a room, out of villa, back to safety of camp.

"He sleeps. He requests to be alone after gift." 

Nasir moves quickly, knocking wine onto floor to appear as blood, leaving jug on side. He unravels toga from around Roman body, musing hair, and closing eyelids. Dipping fingers in wine, he smears it on own lips and shakes hair into knots. Final touch is scratching own shoulders and back. 

"Lead me out. I will talk to body slave."

Whole affair is rushed, but believable. Nasir adjusts red fabric to hide gladiator brand on stomach. Agron takes lead, hiding bloody sword hilt inside cloak. Steps along corridor echo as if warning bells. Each moment is as if Rome will descend on head and remove it. 

Albinus, slave boy from before, meets them at doorway. He looks over shoulder, brow furrowed. 

"He sleeps and requests a few moments to regain self," Nasir answers smoothly, running thumb along bottom lip. It is swollen from rough kiss of Roman. 

"Does he not require me?" Albinus does not look convinced. 

"He asked to be without company," Nasir insists, shrugging. 

The boy lets them pass, watching closely as they cross party's depths, before turning and quickly walking down corridor. 

"Make haste! He is to dominus," Gannicus hisses at the pair ahead. 

Agron reaches back, taking Nasir's hand in own before tugging him through entry. Slaves do not try and stop them, just eye them in surprise and recoil. Trained to move out of way of Roman soldiers. The group is to villa's courtyard, heading towards stables, when scream is heard. 

"Horses Gannicus!" Agron shouts as guards move from open gate towards the trio, swords raised. 

Nasir is quick to move away from battle, looking for weapon of own. Guards and slaves begin pouring from villa, in search of them, shouting. Screams from boy slave never seem to stop. Grasping sword from fallen Roman at feet, Nasir joins Agron in defense. 

Helmet is thrown to side as Agron slices through Roman flesh, growling as if beast. Fury from before is back in veins, pounding heart and head. He yanks weapon through stomach of nearest guard and gives shout of triumph as guts spill onto earth. 

"Get on!" 

Gannicus is suddenly before them, reins in each hand of panting and frightened horses. Gripping mane, Agron easily swings onto bare back of the animal, kicking jaw of man on way up. He continues to fight the Romans below, slicing into flesh and spraying blood across self. Agron wants to kill them all, reduce them to nothing as they have done to many slaves, yet he knows there is no time. Agron must get them back to the mountains. He is nearly to gate when he hears name shouted above roar of battle. 

Nasir's horse lay panting and foaming at mouth near him, spike implanted in side, three Roman guards pressing close. Nasir's cheek is bleeding, but he does not falter as blow is dealt across Roman's neck. Agron has no time to feel proud of warrior he has become for at that moment guard's elbow connects with Nasir's face, knocking sword from hand.

"Go!" He manages to shout to Gannicus before turning horse around and galloping back for Nasir. He will not leave him.

It is frenzy as horse's feet trample screaming men, and Agron can not blink eyes away from Nasir's face for fear he will disappear. Desperate hand reaches out, clasping firmly to Nasir's, yanking as hard as he can. Gods favor them as Nasir manages to scramble onto horse, gripping mane as Agron grips him. Thrusting sword blindly towards Roman who still tries for hold on Nasir is met with Agron taking his head. He is pleased to see it was pathetic fuck from before at gate. 

"Grip tight," Agron murmurs into Nasir's ear as he kicks the horse, surging through courtyard and out gate into dark night. 

\- - - 

Travel across barren land is fearful pursuit. Lightening cracks across sky, thunder banging with horses, and rain blinds eyes. Knowledge of hidden caves in mountains serves refuge from clumsy and foolish Roman soldiers, yet barely serves as shelter.

Agron goes to find wood for fire, though dangerous for fear of light, and search for some sense of food. Gannicus moves horses to front of cave to block it best he can, casting silent but worried look at the miserable little Syrian. Nasir stands in center of cave, arms wrapped tightly around self, shivering. Fabric sticks to body, coil of red cloth at feet too soaked to keep around him, and Gannicus can not help but feel sense of sadness for him. Agron has not muttered word towards him since leaving villa, and Nasir notices the German's anger. 

"Here," Pulling cloak off, Gannicus wraps it securely around Nasir's shoulders, keeping hands there to rub warmth, "We did not prepare well for this."

“There were bedrolls in saddle for us,” Nasir mumbles, shrugging a bit. 

“Isn't first time we have slept on ground,” Gannicus tries to give the Syrian an encouraging smile, tucking strand of unruly hair behind ear. Nasir's fearful eyes looking over his shoulder make the Celt pause though. Turning, he notices Agron's furious snarl at them, dropping wood on ground. 

“Gannicus, take first watch.”

It is not a suggestion, but order. Though ranks are equal between them. Bowing head, Gannicus retreats out into rain, finding rock to perch that is distance from cave's entrance to give privacy to the pair. 

Agron says no more as he moves around cave, piling wood, and striking two stones together to create spark. Nasir wants to ask him what gladiator training taught him Vulcan's trick, but stills tongue. He is weary of fight that brews just below surface. Yet, he can not help but be drawn to him, standing close and putting hand on crouched shoulder. 

“Mission failed yet I would offer gratitude for protecting me,” Nasir murmurs, tracing edge of armor. 

“Protection would not be needed had you not volunteered for mission."

Agron does not turn gaze from fire, poking with long stick. Nasir continues stroking skin, frown setting on face.

"I did not volunteer for mission," Nasir says slowly, "I was given it by Spartacus due to skill and knowledge."

"You were given mission due to beauty of face!" 

Standing abruptly, Agron tosses sword to earth, pulling off breast plate too. Nasir can no longer bite tongue, rounding on Agron and pressing finger into chest. 

"Hold tongue. If you held issue with mission, you were not required to come and act as guard!"

"Not required? You would have me stay back, as if last time we separated did not almost cost you life?"

"It is my life to give to cause as I want! You are not dominus over me."

“No, yet I would seek to stop foolish mission and risking of lives.”

“Crixus could have stood in your place. Your temper risked us all! I had control!"

"You would have fucking Gaul stand in place? To let some Roman shit fuck you for permission to steal slaves? The only control we posses over Romans is whether to fucking kill them now or later!"

"Agron!"

"Did we not not fucking storm your villa? Collar is fucking removed from neck. Dominus is dead. You are no longer Tiberius!"

"I will always be Tiberius!" 

Nasir is nearly screaming, crowding into Agron's space and slamming fist into chest. He looks as if wild animal, still soaking wet but with dangerous look in eyes. Agron takes shaky breath, running hands through hair. He tries to regain temper, not wanting argument to go on. He is exhausted from day and wishes only to lay down and close eyes for ages. 

"Nasir-"

"No, you lose sense to anger. You kill and raise voice and yet mission is done. We got information Spartacus requested."

"At cost," Agron sighs, reaching out hesitantly to hold Nasir's jaw, "I can not cast expression of your pain from mind. Look in eye when he touched you-"

"I wasn't-"

"Seeing you cry. Seeing you in pain and not being able to move. I would rather experience lifetime of torture before I see you cast that look again."

"Apologies. I did not know things would escalate that way."

"Do I cause you such pain when you are near me?” Agron asks softly, staring at his hands, “Am I just like Roman, forcing your hand when you would rather recoil? Would you rather be free from me as well?"

"It is not same when your hands are upon me," Nasir steps forward, wrapping arms around Agron's waist. 

"You turn dead eyes upon me," Agron sighs, pressing forehead to Nasir's, "and it is as if you think of me as chore, commanded to please me."

"It is difficult sometimes," Nasir sighs, eyes maintaining contact, "to forget darkest past. I am waiting for your light to turn away."

"I could not," Agron shakes head, kissing Nasir's forehead, "I would follow you into any battle, regardless of life's end."

"I don't believe you'll ever die. You are Mars himself," Nasir pulls his body against Agron's, kissing along jaw. 

“I would never cause you harm on purpose.”

Heat flickers in Agron's stomach, hands coming to gently brush Gannicus' cloak off Nasir, exposing skin as fabric falls to ground. He is man of few words, wanting to show emotion through action. The Syrian looks up slowly, licking lips and tracing fingers down along Agron's stomach. Fire's warmth seems dim compared to what is growing between them. 

Argument is forgotten as Agron's hands cup Nasir's face, roughly pressing their mouths together. Teeth knock together, a startled gasp expelled from Nasir's lips. Agron uses the opportunity to slide tongue into Nasir's mouth, lapping gently at roof of mouth. 

He slides leg between Nasir's, rutting roughly against him. Using grip on back of neck to guide him, Agron keeps Nasir close, mouth moving down to his neck, biting and sucking marks into skin.

"Apologies for raising voice," Nasir pants, pulling back to speckle kisses along Agron's chest. 

"Apologies are mine to make. Anger made tongue careless."

"I am guilty as well of thoughtlessness."

Agron groans as Nasir begins to move down, leaving a trail of opened mouth kisses in his wake. Licking across nipple before nibbling at it, he works fingers in untying Agron's armored belt and skirt. 

"Wait." 

Twisting his fingers in Nasir's hair, Agron guides him up, shaking his head. Nasir opens mouth to protest, but is silenced by one of Agron's fingers. 

"I would not have you wear this when within my arms," Agron murmurs, gently lifting collar from around Nasir's neck. He tosses it to earth, fingers tracing along collar bones, kissing path gently. 

"I never will don collar of slave again," Nasir promises, kissing Agron's forehead in tender reply.

The gladiator steps away for moment, spreading cloaks on cave floor. Nasir can not help but grin, running thumb along bottom lip. The devotion in sea green eyes is so plain it nearly hurts to look at. 

"Come here," Agron's voice is soft as he kneels on the ground, "I would make proper apologies." 

Nasir moves to him, running fingers softly through hair. His heart pounds in chest, filled with so much love for the man before him. Agron is giant, force to be reckoned with, and yet Nasir has never felt more safe than when he is in his presence. 

Leaning forward, Agron presses soft kisses down Nasir's stomach, fingers trailing down his sides. Ghosting over chain, he reaches within pants, gripping Nasir's cock in firm hand, stroking in slow, drawn out movements. Nasir tilts his head back, moaning low in chest at mouth now tasting him through fabric. His legs tremble from pleasure, gripping Agron's hair in fist. 

"Tell me to stop if you don't desire this," Agron pants against dark trail of hair on Nasir's pelvis, unhooking chain so pants flutter to floor. 

"No," Nasir shakes his head, laying himself down and pulling Agron towards him by cords on around neck, "Don't stop. Never stop touching me."

Agron can not help grin, kissing Nasir heatedly before laying between his thighs. Hooking arms around them, he pushes Nasir's legs up, licking long strip along flushed cock before engulfing it in his mouth. Nasir gasps, high pitched moan being ripped from him as Agron's mouth moves at brutal pace. 

He licks greedily at the head, laving tongue back and forth along slit before sucking him in deeply. Humming loudly, Agron keeps one hand around Nasir's thigh and uses the other to cup his balls, rolling them in palm. Nasir tosses head back and forth, back arching sharply off ground. It's too much, too soon, and he gives cry when Agron abruptly pulls back, spitting in hand. 

" _AgronAgronAgron!_ "

Nasir turns dazed eyes down to watch as the gladiator sucks own fingers into his mouth, grinning around them. Syrian groans at sight, rubbing calf along Agron's side encouragingly. Pressing fingers teasingly along inner thigh, Agron teasing tip of middle finger against opening, slipping first knuckle in. Nasir gives shuddering breath, bending knees and parting them farther to welcome more into him. 

"Venus is pale shadow of your beauty. Adonis does not compare," Agron pants, lapping teasingly at head of cock, "The blush upon flesh makes Juno envious."

"You speak-" Nasir gasps, eyes fluttering shut as full finger breaches him, second teasing at entrance, "as blind fool."

Agron pulls off slowly, spitting connecting him to Nasir's red and throbbing flesh. He frowns a little, pumping two fingers within him now. 

"I speak truth."

Nasir gives breathy laugh, intent in reply, but is cut off as sensation changes. Lowering mouth again, Agron takes cock back into mouth with vigor. Taking full length down throat and humming loudly, Agron pumps fingers inside of Nasir roughly, searching for spot inside him that will bring him to completion. Own cock throbs between thighs, begging for attention, and Agron only rut against ground to lease some pressure. Belt cuts into flesh, but Agron refuses to pull away to strip away cloth. 

Syrian is back to gasping and whimpering, thrashing back and forth as best he can, jerking roughly when Agron finally finds prostate. He gives shout, fisting Agron's hair and yanking on strands. Pain throbs through Agron's skull, but he can not pull away, liking the little bit of control Nasir has on him. 

As if warning, Nasir's legs tense, kicking along ground, heels digging in. Licking strip from fingers within opening, across balls, and along length, Agron catches Nasir's completion on tongue, laving tongue back and forth, creating mess on the smaller man's hips and his own jaw. 

"Fuck!"

Nasir lays boneless on red cloaks, staring blurry eyed up at the German as Agron raises to knees, licking fingers that once had been inside Nasir. Pulling off coverings, Agron wraps hand roughly around own cock, stroking few short times before coming across Nasir's chest and stomach, grinning at sight. 

"You are still sight I wish to never release from mind," Agron murmurs, licking at own seed before kissing Nasir deeply. Kiss is innocent, softer, and filled with heart's sweetest emotion. Nasir hums softly at feeling, whole body tingling. 

Buzzing with his orgasm, Agron rips edge of blanket, wetting it with captured water from outside. His legs feel like mush, but sight of Nasir's sleepy and grinning face give him strength to slowly wipe down his skin. 

Finally, when tasks is complete, does he lay down, Nasir rolling close and placing head upon chest, leg across hips. Tracing leisure patterns into his back, Agron kisses Nasir's temple. 

"Agron," Nasir mumbles, breathing softly across cooling skin, "will we ever tire of this? Will there be time soon when you look at me and heart does not feel like it's bursting with need to be near you?"

Agron gently raises Nasir's jaw with finger, kissing mouth sweetly. He rubs nose along Nasir's, kissing him again for good measure. 

"Not even in death."

\- - - 

When morning light comes, shadows can be seen making way over top of mountain. One is exhausted man on horse, barely able to keep eyes open caused by watching for danger all night and listening to echos of love from within cave. The other is two men wrapped comfortably around each other, one sleeping in the other's arms as they make way back to safety of camp. 

Only evidence of their stay in the cave is a small burn pile on floor from fire and large, black slave's collar left in the ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Follow me on [tumblr!](http://venomedveins.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [ tumblr! ](http://venomedveins.tumblr.com) Follow me :D


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